Rubyskylounge wants to be my friend!!!

 Ohh goody, goody. I always wanted to  hangout with a night club.

Friend, you ask me?

You bet!  I say.

Were going to have soo much fun together and become ol' chums in under three shakes I reckon. Me, you and all the other places I have made friends with can you know, just kinda hang out, and... stuff.

You know what I am saying bro?

Well suckers, Ol thumbz already went and got his vote on. Yeah I know you are all jealous  because I thought about voting before you did.

 I had thought voting by mail was only for old geezer shutins and the military, but  apparently even relative youngsters like myself have the constitutional right to vote by mail. It kind of ruined the holiday atmosphere of election day, but hey, at least I went ahead and voted instead just saying I I am going to vote then spending the morning jerking off instead.

"Hey thumbz did you vote?"

"No man, I was too busy spanking my monkey"

I am hoping they are going to send me one of those nifty "I voted" stickers by mail. I love wearing those things, makes me feel so proud and civic minded.   I also wish that you could to do other civic minded things by mail, like juror duty or even donate blood. Perhaps in the future, we will have the science and technology available to figure this out.

Now I am not going to give away who I decided to vote for, but since I try to keep this blog as apolitical as possible I will refrain. Okay, twist my arm, I will give you a clue: My picks name rhymes with "yo momma"

Got it?

Figure it out?

Good.

Dude, did you hear about Clay Aiken? I cannot believe it. I am totally taking his poster down.

I still cannot get into my coffee blog so I decided to make a new site dedicated to coffee here. It is pretty much a continuation of the other one, except it does not have all those "get paid to blog " ads. Ok, so I did hook up google ad sense to it ( a brother gots to get paid fool) but its not like your obligated to look at them.

Man, I still cannot believe the news about Clay. It seems like everybody is coming out of the closet. Whose next? Ricky Martin? Nah, no way.

Oh joyous happy day!, Oh callooh, callay! the jabberwockey that we Lions fans call Matt Millen has  finally been slain. He has been seen packing up his boxes and leaving the complex, his days of drafting over-rated receivers are over once and for all. Sources say that Bill Ford Jr's public rebuking of his daddy, who has been the sole owner of the toothless lions since the Sixties was finally the thing that got through to the stubborn old codger who is known to value sycophantic loyalty over performance.Sure, we should all give little billy a slap on the back for finally saying something in public, but then we all should remember that it was Bill JR who first touted the hiring of the M and M show. Oh well, at least its been done and we few remaining fans now have something to smile about for two weeks until we are forced to witness another train wreck in Chi-town.

I cannot believe that I actually sat through the entire Lions/49ers game last Sunday. What a debacle. The offense was inept, the line being more porous than my emergency back up underwear and it looked like the defense was trying to make it on sportscenter by giving up all the big plays. Still, I sat their and watched as these toothless kittens made Mike Martz look once again like a genius, and not the overrated blowhard he really is. I guess, I had to, since it it will be the only Lions game, besides the the one one Turkey-day that I will get to watch over here on the west coast.

I still cannot believe that I am still a Lions fan, after all the heartache I have been through.Some Michiganders I know over here have gone over to the silver and black, but that option just does not work for me. For some reason I bleed Honolulu blue baby. Although, I must say the Matt Millen years have eroded some of the passion that I had once formerly had for my beloved team. But, hey I guess I want to me there when they finally win it all, or at least make it past the first round in the playoffs.

Anyway, how bout those Spartans huh? Ring a ding ding.

Curses, I have not been able to get into my coffee roasting blog for almost four days now. The site keeps saying I am putting in the wrong password, but every time I go through "forgot your password" feature, nothing happens. I do not get a new password delivered to me or even a response of any kind from the people over there at Today.com. I am figuring that maybe something is wrong with their site, but then again I am worried that somehow my computer is the culprit since I am having trouble with a few other sites and my sound card seems to be a bit fubar. That is what I get for actually deciding to pay for some virus protection from AVG instead of just getting the free monthly trial like I have been for the past year. As soon as I installed it, shit seemed to hit the fan. I can't get into my coffee blog to rap about my latest purchases and I cannot get into my Brand Angels social network to find out if they are ever going to send the free Cherrypal out that they promised me three months ago now. I even have a few movie review haikus that I want to get off my chest, but can't because that site is also closed off to me at this time.

My blogpire is collapsing! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Ok, I need to take a breath. There is no need to panic. It is probably just a glitch in the system that will be repaired in due time. Its not like they are going to abandon me over there at Today.com right? I mean , they just sent me a check for like sixty bucks the other day. Thats right sixty big ones straight from the bank of  Canada. Oh, wait a minute, Canada? Well, still , I am sure that they are not going to abandon me. And if they do. Screw em, I will take my creativity somewhere else. Start a new blog on a different site. Make it bigger amd better. Thats right  Today.com, I don't need you. I will just go somewhere else. with my obession. Take that you damn dirty Canucks. Besides, I do have other creative outlets that I can attend to in the meantime. Ah shit my pants, I am late for work...

shit, shit , shit

Was his mantra. He punched the gas, pushing the Rondo up to ninety as he swerved in and out of the Sunday Morning Twin City Traffic. He buzzed by a van load of Lutherans and then glanced first at his Googled directions then at the dashboard clock. It read 8:39.

Fuck! Shit! Goddamn slow ass Midwestern motherfuckers!

He yelled at the top of his lungs as he veered left, towards the interchange that he hoped was the right one.

We are going to miss the motherfucking goddamn son of a bitch airplane! Oh fuckety fuck fuck fuck, I just knew that this was going to happen!

He bitched and swore and drove like a maniac, hoping to get there in just enough time to catch the plane back to sunny California.

don't worry babe we will make it time

She said from the back seat as she hurriedly packed up the clothes, hats, shoes rocks and cds that had previously been strewn all over the rondo.

They  had used the clothes to block out the glaring lights of the RestStop that they had been forced to sleep at after unsuccessfully finding a hotel room. The whole place was lit up like a football field and they had used their shirts and towels to cover up the windows so that  they could get at least a few hours sleep in this ultra safe roadside reststop.  They had left his folks place the evening before after saying their goodbyes to the grandparents and everyone else. They were hoping to get a good head start on the five hour drive to the MSP airport planning to stop somewhere south of Duluth and good a good nights sleep before their 11:00 am airport check in time. 

They did not realize  that it was summer in the land of a thousand  lakes and that it was the perfect weekend to go boating. Ten hotel stops and four bad cups of coffee later they had found themselves at the rest stop. It was around three am. The good thing was that they were only about 45 minutes from the airport. They could still get some sleep and make it to the airport well ahead of the deadline of 11:00 am.

He had gotten maybe a few hours of sleep before the glare of the morning sun, peeking through the corners of the t-shirt that he had carefully hung on the blind,  woke him up. It was a bit past eight when  he finally decided to take a look at the iteniary that he had printed out before that had embarked upon their cross continental journey. 

It was then he had realized his terrible error. There it was, printed out in stark dark blue upon creased white printer paper. He looked at the printout and then at the dash board clock then back at the paper. His tired brain slowly processed the information it was receiving then suddenly hit the panic button.  It was already 8:14 and his plane was set to take off at 9:30!

Shit, fuck, shit fuck shit  ball licker donkey fucker wake up babe we gotta move!

He had shoved on his shoes, tore away the t-shirts from the front windows,  and started up the Rondo in a matter of seconds. Soon he was tearing down 35 south on his way to the Hubert H Humphry terminal.

Amazingly he had been able to navigate his way around the confusing Twin City Freeway system and arrive at the Rental Car checkout  counter  without once getting lost. When they had arrived, it had taken them two hours to get out of the loop and heading north. Yet somehow had had managed to find the airport on his very first try. Still, it was now 8:47 and they still needed to deal with the rental place and check in.

Shit! will this fuckin crap ass bitch dick car hurry up and turn!

He yelled in the direction of the red accord in front of him, that was apparently heading to the same parking structure; just at a nice and easy midwesternly pace. He finally made into the rental car drop off site and parked the Rondo in the nearest spot. The gas tank was only halfway full and he now regretting waiving away the rental guys earlier sales pitch. He pushed down the parking brake and unbuckled. and began helping his girlfriend pack up the remaining odds and ends. A Eminem CD that they had stolen from his brother to listen to on the drive had fallen between the seat and the central console and out of there reach. They were forced to leave it behind along with other bric brac.

There was no one at the Enterprise console, so he shoved the keys into the overnight box and together they ran up the stairs like Bonnie and Clyde and through the sky walk into the main terminal. The Sun Country Airlines terminal was right at the bottom of the escalator and there was no line what so ever. Which was both good and bad news.

Fuck, who wee fuck yah!

He swore with enthusiasm, thinking that they might of actually pulled it off.

 They gave their id's to the girl behind the counter and began arranging their bags. The girl looked up from the screen and at the frantic looking couple in  front of her  watching them hurriedly stuff, zipped and snapped up their  check in bags.

Umm, do you know that your flight doesn't leave until 9:30 tonight?

She asked them in the quiet manner of a Midwesterner who is embarrassed for someone else.

Wha?

They asked in unison, stopping in mid zipper and snap and looking up at the girl.

Your flight doesn't leave until 9:30 tonight. Umm, you can still check in your bags, but you will be waiting for twelve hours in the terminal before you can board.

He took out the paper and looked. There it was. Flight 347 leaving MSP for SFO at 9:30... PM.

Shit.
  

Hey there folks. How are you all doing over here in myspace? Gosh, its been a while since I really came here and blogged it out. Sorry. I guess I have just been a little busy blogging it out elsewhere that I do not have time for the old Thumbz blog anymore.Although I have learned that it is wise to make time in order to maintain my blogpire.
Whats a blogpire?
Well, I am glad you asked. You see, in my adventures in trying to become a freelance writer, I learned a few thinks about text link advertising and search engine optimization. You see, in order to be seen you have to be linked, but in order to be linked, you do not necessarily have to be seen. You just need to be linked somehow. Confusing huh?  Ok, here is an example. take google. Google got all of these little bot things that crawl the internet, scanning through webpages looking for relevant keywords (you know that shit you type into the search bar). After it finds out all of the sites that contain the keywords, it then ranks them based on a complex algorithm involving keyword density, site popularity, and the number of links a site has, yadda, yadda yadda. So in order for your site to make it in those first few pages, it needs to have a good keyword density, be popular, and have lots of links from other sites. Well, I can only stuff so many of those damn keywords into my writing, and you only become popular once you are seen, so I have decided on concentrating on building Links. And this is where the old blogpire idea comes in.
I have decided not to have just one or two blogs, but many blogs, all linked together, forming a little fiefdom across the digital divide. You all already know about my coffee blog, where I obsess about my little coffee  obsession. But now I also have a blog site exclusively for my movie review haikus.  On top of that I have even decided to open up a little blog dedicated to funny little stories here
I also have a blog about this thing called a cherrypal, a little cloud based computer that I am supposed to get for free, but I am still waiting for it to be delivered, so I have written nothing about it so far. I have linked all these little blogs together, forming a little mini blogpire of links, that I will attempt to expand in the coming months.
I have lots of ideas for other blogs. I will probably put old Charly Freedom in a blog all by itself, creating some sort of blog novel and perhaps I will make a blog about fluffy little kittens. Mmmm, kittens, so playful, so tasty. Who knows, the future is wide open. Anyway, I guess you all might be wondering where that leaves the blog on Myspace. Do not worry, I will do my best not to abandon it. Hopefully I will find some time to just write some good old fashioned silly blogs, instead of self promoting pieces aimed at steering you to other places on the Internet. But until then: Get paid to BLOG at Today.com

okey dokey, lets get down to brass tax and write something here already. Sorry if I haven't been around lately folks. Just been busy lately using all my creative juices trying to make some serious scratch through a series of different business ventures. My latest scheme has been hawking used dvds via e-bay.  Made a little cash, but really after all the nickle and diming that e-bay and paypal do, the profit margin is minimal. I have also been involved with a huge wrting project for this one SEO company. Its been fun, but I am now relieved that I am seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I still need to finish up an article on how to buy generic viagra online today, before I can fianlly  collect.

Did you know that generic viagra is just as good as getting you some serious wood as regular viagra and that you do not need a prescription to buy it! Wow, slap my ass and call me fanny,  I gotta go get me some.

 As you can see, I am all juiced to write this article. Ok, I am delaying the soul sucking venture for the moment, but hey ten bucks is ten bucks.

Oh, yeah I am am also working hard on my coffee porn site  (look ma I learned how to insert a text link!) Since I actually enjoy yammering on about coffee, I really do not consider it work but hey if they want to pay me.

So anyways, I got a lot of different irons in the fire, and it has been hard to find the time to get around to writing something original for the old thumb blog . I am working on a few stories related to me the and girlfriend's recent trip back to the motherland to see my folks, grand folks, brothers, sisters, and the two billion little nieces and nephews I now have (Good god we erickson's are prolific little mo-fos) .I have a funny ditty about our trip back to the Minneapolis Airport as well as yet another story involving the snowshoe bandit. Getting them written is a slow process at the moment, but I promise you that they will make an appearance soon. Now I best be getting back to working on this viagra shit.

Peace and up yours

Media, snatched away from the ethereal web, filled its consciousness and woke it from stand-by mode: a news-copter shot of a dark blockish building surrounded by flashing red streams of emergency response vehicles, images of a man in a jean jacket and a black cap, along with images of others dressed just like him.   Its internal processing drives  began to silently whirl as it it probed for further information. Although a machine,  3562 was acting on what could only be called intuition. It went to the comedynews.net site and quickly found the item that had snapped it  from its electric half sleep. The headline read: "Patriot's day massacre". Forty-Seven people  had died in a explosion at a nightclub in Oakland. The night club had been hosting a Charly Freedom tribute concert. All eleven of the Charly Freedom impersonators were reported among those killed.  The name of the nightclub, The ThundaDrone,  seemed familiar to 3562.  It brought up a vidfone conference that had occured the night before...

"You got a gig eh? Thats great Paulie. where yah playing at?"
"A place called the ThundaDrone Pops. Dave's uncle owns the place. They ain't going to pay much, but it's a big show with lots of exposure."
"Dave's uncle huh? I think I went to highschool wit da guy..."

It had been a conversation between Sheriff Allen and his son, Paulie. 3562 reached a digitized tentacle out into the California universal health care site. It bypassed the firewalls using a law enforcement protocol code, and began to search the night's D.O.A. files for the Oakland area. It took  two seconds to find the data that proved its hunch.  Now 3562 had to find a way of telling the Sheriff.  It pulled itself out the  world of digitized media and switched on all of its external sensors.
   
 Inside the bedroom it was a pleasant 23 degrees celsius, perfect temperature for the sleeping human who lay, snoring comfortably, in his new conform foam bed. Outside it was -2 degrees celsius and snowing . The fierce wind slapped against the outside walls of the eighty year old ranch home at 15 k.ph. and pushed the the heavy snow  against the  glass of the bedroom window. 3562's plastic shell casing began to glow a luminescent green as it focused its sensors on the Sheriff. His temperature was normal, and his breathing had become a bit irregular as he emitted large gutteral snores. His heart rate was a little fast and 3562  detected rapid eye movement, which indicated that the fiftytwo-year-old peacekeeper was in the midst of a very involved dream. Waking him was going to be tricky, but the news could not wait.

"Bzzzt, bzzzt," 3562 began to gently buzz.

The sheriff stirred slightly, his pupils began to dance  with urgency, rolling like marbles beneath his lids.

"Bzzzzt, bzzzt, bzzzzt" The little green electronic gizmo persisted, going into full alarm mode.

Sheriff Allen tossed and turned, then opened his eyes with a grunt. He squinted through the darkness, his half closed eyes peering at the little buzzing pod.

"Time," he grunted then looked up at the large glowing green numbers that jumped onto the wall screen
 
"For the love of Jebus, Maggie, " he said , "Are your circuits malfunctioning? It's barely four in the godammned a.m."

"Meep, mop," 3562 responded, before turning off the clock, and switching to the news.

"Stupid piece of little green junk," The sheriff growled, "should have traded you in for the "p2300" series when I had the chance-"

He stopped as caption of Charly Freedom filled the wall. He grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and shoved them on just in time to read the headline.  







 

David looked at his watch phone; it read  11:45, only ten minutes left.  He looked outside, the rain had stopped, for the moment, and a heavy bay fog began creeping into the cold, dark streets. He glanced towards the monolithic facade of the nightclub,the doors were thudding to the beat of the band's final number, Bruce the doorman was leaning against the cinder block wall with the look of boredom etched onto his face. David caught Bruce's attention with a quick whistle then pulled a flask out from beneath his jean jacket, flashing it inquiringly  Bruce  turned down his offer with a disinterested shrug and then lit up a contraband low tar cigarette from China. David unscrewed the flask's cap and  took a long healthy swallow of the hot, black elixir within savoring the initial chocolate, tobacco bitterness then swallowing to mellow in the slighty grainy, licorice aftertaste. He felt the immediate effects of the caffeine, waking him up, making him alert, it was good stuff. He took another swallow of the hooch and  was pondering yet another when he heard the low rumble of approaching vehicles. Thinking it might be the HSD making their rounds, He quickly replaced the cap and put his flask back inside his jean jacket. He then popped a mint hoping to mask the odor of the illegal  coffee.
A dozen motorcycles appeared out of the dark soupy fog, all of them were Harley Hybrids, and the riders were all wearing matching white sequined jump suits. They were definitely not HSD, unless they were some special task force on assignment from Las Vegas. David had trouble believing what his eyes were telling him: a dozen Elvises on bikes was just too much visual stimulation for one night. They stopped about fifty yards from the ticket booth maneuvering their Harleys into a straight militaristic line, keeping the hybrid engines idling. Then, the oldest, fattest looking Elvis  heaved himself off of his bike and trudged up to the ticket booth. He paused in front of David and  sniffed the air like a hungry bear.
"Ohh Mama, I smell good hooch." Fat Elvis said with a signature snarl.
David nervously cleared his throat, but chose to remain silent.
"Whatsamatta boy, cat got yer tongue?" Fat Elvis asked as he stepped closer, "Yes sah, someone  sure has been hitting the Joe around here. My nose always knows. Ohh mama, what I would do for a cup of that good stuff."
"I don't have any clue what you are talking about," David said, finally gaining some of his composure back. "Do you and and your friends want to see the show or what? There is a big finale coming up, eleven Charlys on the stage at once."
"No thank's boy, My brothers and I have no interest in that  Charly Freedom nonsense," Fat Elvis said.
"Too bad, it's going to be a rockin finale." David said
"What ever you say lad," Fat Elvis said. "Now how about you tell me how to get to the freeway from here, We got lost on our way to Sacramento."
"Umm sure, just take a right on Peralta then make a left on Grand,"David said while pointing down the street. "You can't miss the exit."
"Much obliged," Fat Elvis said, then added, " So I guess we will be on our way, unless you wanna give a taste of that fine java you got hidden in there, unh huh."
David scrutnized Fat Elvis and the situation. If this was some sort of vice trap, he had to give the police points for originality. He pulled out his flask and tried to push through the homeostatic slot. The slot sizzled and popped, rejecting the metallic container. "Oops," said David snatching up the flask. He did his best not to feel like an ignoramous, and flicked off the barrier, waited ten seconds, then slid the flask through.  
Fat Elvis reached down and with his pudgy fingers and gingerly picked up the flask. He opened it, held it up to his pug like nose and sniffed the contents.  "Ohh mama, I never thought I would see the day when just smelling coffee would give me such pleasure," he whispered half to himself. He then raised the flask to his lips and took a long healthy swallow. " What you got here son, some Jamaican Blue?"
"It's actually New Guinea Bourbon, I have a friend who knows a guy," David replied as Fat Elvis took another long greedy swallow. "Hey man, save a couple of drops for me."
"My apologies,"Fat Elvis replied as he replaced the cap and pushed the nearly emptied flask back through the slot. "It has been so long since I got my hands on some gourmet coffee, I guess I lost control"
 He then reached inside his jumpsuit and produced a shiny gold coin which he pushed it through the slot. "Please accept this token as gesture of gratitude for your generosity."
David picked up the coin and examined it. It was a Sacajawea Dollar Coin.
"It may not look like much son, but that coin is a lucky coin. May it help you in times of trouble and my guts a-tellin me that there is a-trouble coming your way soon." Fat Elvis said as he walked back to his gang, donned his helmet and climbed up on his bike.
 The bikes started up with a roar and David watched  as the rotund leader led his gang down Peralta street in search of the freeway. David examined his new lucky Sacajawea dollar coin and contemplated upon the trouble that the Fat Elvis Impersonator was talking about. His watch phone then beeped signaling the end of his shift. He slipped the coin in his pocket, secured the lockbox, and began to punch in the code that would let him out of the secure ticket booth. He was was about to open the door when a large explosion erupted within the ThundaDrone. The last thing David remembered seeing  before the hard concrete floor took away his conciousness were the doors of the club  being blown off their hinges and Bruce the doorman flying through the air like a rag doll tossed by an angry child.  The last thing he remembered thinking was: "Lucky coin my ass".